Daughter Lines, Enlarged

In the numberless numbers, the late night of their weight,

Lie philosopher puzzles, a jumble of man's talk

As if somebody listened.  Men strolled along porches

And taught, not what they knew, but what they yearned --

The head for the heart, waiting for love to appear.

After working the numbers, after accounts for the who who reads them,

I took a midnight walk, and, with you, conversed 

As if you were there.  We passed in the halogen halo of lamps 

And laughed, not at the wit, as at the fact that it was we,

We who walked as the night reared its ear.

.